CHAPTER XXI

FATHER AND DAUGHTER

In the morning Sylvia was so much better that Nyoda allowed her to sit up

out of bed, and there, sitting beside the wheel chair which was to be the

throne of the little princess all her life, she told Sylvia the story of

her parentage. For a moment Sylvia sat as if turned to stone; then with a

cry of unbelieving ecstasy, she clasped the picture of Sylvia Warrington

to her heart.

"My mother!"

Nyoda stole out softly and left the two of them together.

* * * * * * *

Later on in the afternoon there was a lively bustle of preparation in

Sylvia's room. The great carved armchair that had served as throne on the

night of the party had been brought up from the library, and once more

covered with its purple velvet draperies. Sylvia, whose romantic fancy

had seized eagerly upon the immense dramatic possibilities of the

occasion, had insisted upon being arrayed as the princess when her father

should come in to see her.

"The king is coming! The king is coming!" she exclaimed every few

moments. "Array me in my most splendid robes, for my royal father, the

king, is coming!"

Thrills of excitement, like little needle pricks, ran up and down her

spine; her whole being seemed alight with some wonderful inner radiance,

that shone through the flesh and transfigured it with unearthly beauty.

Nyoda brought the fairy-like white dress and draped it about her, playing

the rôle of lady-in-waiting with spirit. Every time she passed before

Sylvia she bowed low; she made the Winnebagos stand up in a line and pass

in the bracelets from hand to hand; she herself brought in the crown on a

cushion, and placed it upon Sylvia's head with much ceremony.

"Doesn't she look like a real royal princess, though!" Migwan exclaimed

to Hinpoha in the far end of the room. "I feel actually abashed before

her, knowing all the while that it's only playing."

"O, if she could only have been cured!" Hinpoha sighed in answer. "How

much jollier it would have been!"

Migwan echoed the sigh. "Life is very strange," she said musingly.

"Things don't always come out the way we want them to."

"That's so," said Hinpoha, beginning to see a great many sober

possibilities in life which had never before occurred to her.

An automobile horn sounded outside. "There's Sherry now, bringing Dr.

Phillips back from their ride," said Migwan. "They'll be coming up in a

few minutes."

The horn sounded again.

"The royal trumpeter!" cried Sylvia. "Our royal father, the king,

approaches!"

She settled the crown more firmly upon her head, and sat up very straight

on her throne. Her cheeks glowed like roses; her eyes were like great

stars. Nyoda watched her keenly for any signs of being overcome with

excitement.

From the hall came the sound of footsteps.

"His Majesty, the King," said Nyoda, throwing open the door with a

dramatic flourish.

For a moment Dr. Phillips stood transfixed upon the threshold, overcome

by the scene of splendor within.

Then he held out his arms to her, forgetting that she was paralyzed.

"Sylvia--daughter!"

"Father!"

Then the amazing thing happened. Sylvia rose to her feet, stepped from

the throne, and ran across the room into her father's arms.

"It happens sometimes," explained Dr. Phillips a few moments later, when

they had all recovered from their first stupefied amazement. "Some great

shock, and the paralyzed nerves wake to life again. That is what has

taken place here. She is cured."